Doughnuts
by slenderpanda597
Summary: University life starts off complicated for Miranda. Will she ever be able to make it work?


(a/n - oh, the art of procrastination! Yea, I bought and watched series 3 of Miranda. And rewatched series 1 and series 2. Multiple times. Who cares if I fail at life, eh?! Anywho, what time is it? Ah yea, the birthday of one of my dear friends, who I happen to be missing seeing more than a little bit. They're my girl on the platform. So, since I won't be seeing them for sometime (and I am skint, who am I kidding?!) I've decided to write them a fic. For a new fandom. And a new pairing. Ooh, aren't I adventurous!? I own nothing, as per.)

Doughnuts

Miranda rolled out of her bed and groggily acknowledged the phone sitting beside her. It was beeping madly. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and groaned. 10:56. Brilliant. It was her first day of university, and she was going to miss her first ever class. And she had a whole tonne of messages to make her way through. Might as well listen to them as she got dressed, she thought. No time like the present. Pressing the button as she stumbled out of her much too short bed, she allowed the messages to float through the room.

'Miranda, darling? Yes, well, I am hoping this message gets through on the what I call, intercom, but I just thought I would tell you that your father and I are already missing you terribly, and you should get up early! We signed you up for a reason. Now I must dash, your father is wanting to have an early morning s-'

"UNACCEPTABLE!" Miranda shouted, in and out of her t shirt. "Firstly, it isn't what you call an intercom, well, actually, it is, since it is a telephone! Secondly, I went to boarding school with Tilly and Fanny and co, so you've never seen me hardly. Thirdly, I actually do not wish to be here. Fourthly, I hope you were referring to an early morning snack and WHY ARE STRETCHY BLACK T SHIRTS NOT STRETCHY AT ALL?!" The last part was shouted to the room at nobody in particular, as the t shirt she was wearing sat awkwardly upon her overly elongated frame. Realising she had missed the rest of the messages, Miranda pressed to hear them as she sat pulling her jeans on.

'Miranda, poppet? Miranda? Tilly here. How are you coping? Life so far is tremendulent and I've only been here for, like, ten minutes. You better get up, Kongers. Kisses.'

'Queen Kong? Fanny! Eeeeeeeek! I am so excited, eeeek! See you around!' Miranda shook her head at the messages, and picked up her bag, hoping that she wouldn't be too late to her first class. She checked her timetable for which lectures and classes she had and when. Then she looked back at the clock. 11:37. She had better get a move on, then. She didn't know where she was going.

It was at almost midday when Miranda finally tripped over the threshold and into her business class. The professor taking the group, a stern woman with rimmed glasses and greying hair, glared at her, as the rest of the class threatened to burst into laughter at her comedic entrance. After giving Miranda a stern warning, and Miranda gave profuse apology for being late, she awkwardly sidled over to the only empty seat available. Next to her was a smallish girl, with blonde hair and an air of smugness and superiority around her. Miranda felt uneasy. When it came to a partnered discussion task, Miranda turned to a torrent of abuse from the girl.

"So, late on the first day. Well, well, well, we will have to make sure that you at least know the stuff..." Miranda yawned pointedly at the woman, regretting the day she ever allowed her mother to send her to university - and pick the majority of her classes. Miranda hadn't a clue what she was going to major in or do with her life, so she had been allowed to do a few different lessons until she decided what she was going to do. Naturally, her mother had picked business and English and travel. 'What better than a, what I call, English businesswoman who can go abroad and find some hot men?' had been the exact words used when Miranda had asked for her mother's logic behind the decision. The only positive was that Miranda had been allowed to pick two classes to attend. Food and circus performance, naturally.

Miranda stumbled through the rest of her first day, hating every moment of it. Business wasn't her thing, travel definitely wasn't her thing (and Tilly was in that class, which although meant she had someone familiar to sit next to, also meant that she was subjected to annoying vocabulary every 'dix minuten'), and even circus performance didn't hold as much joy as she had been expecting. There was just too much theory involved. By the time Miranda reached her poky halls of residence room again that evening she was exhausted. All she wanted was to collapse on the floor and cry. Heavily. The problem was, however, that the room was just a bit longer than Miranda was tall, and about five times her width, at best. Place a not long enough and not wide enough bed, a small closet, an even smaller desk and a rickety looking chair in there and there was literally no room to lie down. At all. Which is why instead of lying down and crying, Miranda opened the door, tripped over the suitcase she had forgotten about and collapsed in a heap on the floor, hitting her shoulder on the corner of the desk as she did so. It was then that she cried.

Miranda's first week at university was not a pleasant experience. While most people were excitedly discussing their courses with new friends, Miranda was muddling her way around the campus, falling over her own feet and drowning in essays. English involved reading, and Miranda didn't mind reading, which was fine. But then it involved writing about the novel.

"How am I supposed to write about the representation of women in Romeo and Juliet? It is a stupid play about stupid people in stupid love." Miranda muttered on the Thursday evening. "Books are meant to be interesting, and have interesting television adaptations. Like Poirot. And you're not meant to have to dissect it into tiny little pieces which explain the relevance of the colour red within a rose!" Miranda was not enjoying English. Or food for that matter. Well, the food in the various restaurants and canteens on site was lovely. But her food technology course was horrendous. It actually involved cooking! When Miranda found this out, she audibly groaned, and received multiple looks of disdain from the various wannabe food snobs in the room.

"I have to plan a three course meal involving vegan-friendly produce?! What is that supposed to mean?" Miranda asked her wall one evening. "I signed up to this course thinking it was about food tasting. I've been deceived!" The only positive, Miranda decided, about this particular class, was the rather attractive male who had a seat near to her, who she frequently stared at. When Friday night came, Miranda was completely ready to call it a night and go to sleep. Then the phone rang. She reached over and picked up the receiver.

"Hello? Look, mum - I am fine, life is fi-"

"Queen Kong?"

"Tilly! What a surprise. I am doing great, right, bye."

"Kongers! You ecoute ici! Tonight, there is a minute soiree dans la petit club a la campus ouest! It will be absolutels brilliantisimus and you are coming!"

"Tilly, I am not coming to a party... I am... I am... Scuba diving with The Beatles."

"No excuses Kongers, me and Fanny will come for you! Be ready in half an hour so that nous can pick vous up!"

"But Tilly-" a dialling tone. Tilly had hung up. Miranda groaned. That was just was she needed. A party with Tilly and Fanny when she was tired. She could already feel the perspiration beading up on the back of her neck at the thought of a mass social occasion where thousands of freshers would be getting drunk and high and dancing and kissing and the music would be loud and the room would be stuffy and Tilly would be babbling and Fanny would be squealing and Miranda would be stood in the corner like a socially awkward giraffe at the midnight waterhole party in Africa. She sighed. Then made her way to her suitcase and found the dress her mum had packed her. It was blue and frilly and short and revealing and the most awful thing Miranda had seen. Why had she allowed her mother to do most of her packing again? It would have to do, anyway. She made her way to the communal showers, internally screaming at the thought. When she entered, it appeared that everybody was going out somewhere. So many people! Miranda stumbled into the only open cubicle then realised that the lock didn't work. Drat. Well, she couldn't just exit now, could she? She had her toiletries bag with her, and used a mixture of grips, clips and bobbles to hold the door shut. Then, she showered without falling over and doing her back in or getting concussion or dying, and was able to dry and put on the dress. It was horrific. It barely reached her knees, and she found it much too clingy and frilly and awful. She punched the cubicle walls a couple of times whilst stretching to get it on, and then proceeded to fire hair accessories everywhere when she attempted to remove her temporary cubicle lock. As she exited at long last, she got some incredibly judgemental stares from the other people using the facilities, who had clearly heard her attempts at getting dressed in a cubicle way too small for somebody of her height. And they probably saw some hair accessories fly out from underneath the door, the rest littering the now vacant cubicle. And Miranda was sure the horrendous blue garment she was wearing didn't help, either. Holding her head down, Miranda swiftly exited the showers, just banging her shoulder on the door frame as she left. Damn stupid doors.

The party was horrendous before they had even entered. The club itself was set back in a row of shops, with peeling yellow paint and newspaper at the windows. Inside, the music was blaring and the people were singing and Miranda was cringing. Tilly and Fanny had to practically drag her inside, given the fact that Miranda wanted nothing more than to return to her room and curl up and sleep after eating some marshmallows for comfort. Soon, Tilly and Fanny were swaying and dancing and flirting and Miranda took her opportunity to make her way over to a corner with her minty lime cocktail thing through all of the sweaty students. While there, she wriggled about a bit, as her shoulder was hurting profusely, having now hit it heavily twice within a week. As she was shaking awkwardly, she noticed the blonde girl she sat next to in business by the bar, staring across the room while flicking her hair. Miranda almost laughed at the fact that she, too, seemed to be alone. Although she was doing a better show at looking attractive, Miranda decided. And the high bar stool made her look taller than she was. Suddenly, Miranda felt a presence beside her, and she looked up, halfway through a shoulder soothing shake, saw who was there, windmilled her free arm so fast that it punched them in the face, and felt her zip tear open on the back of her dress. The attractive guy from her food technology class was stood in front of her, laughing gently whilst cradling his chin. That laugh, Miranda thought, that laugh was to die for.

"Hey," he smiled, and held out his hand. "Gary Preston." Gary. Such a perfect name, she thought. Such a perfect guy. Tall like her, attractive... He was looking at her.

"Oh! I am meant to speak! A very good evening to you. I am Miranda, forsooth!" Why had she gone slightly Shakespearian? Must be the Romeo and Juliet. She bent her head down to hide her blush, and to her horror, her dress fell down her arms, leaving her stood in her bra in front of Gary. Tilly's voice sounded from somewhere nearby.

"Look at Johnny Flash over there, total shamefuls." Miranda wanted the ground to swallow her up. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Gary.

"Are you okay? That's a pretty nasty bruise you've got there," he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. "I think we should probably leave. Is there anything you want?"

"Doughnuts." Miranda replied without even thinking. He laughed.

"Right then, doughnuts it is." Pulling her dress up a little, and taking her heels off, Miranda made her way back through the club, Gary following. He smiled at her once they were out, and took her to a nearby corner shop which opened late. He went and bought a packet of sugary doughnuts, and Miranda happily ate them with him, the sweetness dissolving some of the trauma of the evening. Gary placed his arms behind her back as she leaned against the wall, and she suddenly got scared as she smelt his manly scent in front of her as his hands travelled behind her body.

"Puncture my lilo!" Miranda whispered spontaneously. Gary pulled back.

"Sorry? Did you say something? I was just fastening your dress back up, is that okay? I would have asked you to turn around, but there's some sleazy looking drunks down there and I didn't want them to try and take advantage of your vulnerability. What did you say?" Miranda's insides went mental at his speech. She had thought he was making out with her, and he was being nice and gentlemanly. She sighed.

"No, I was just saying thanks for the doughnuts, I love doughnuts." Gary smiled at her.

"No problem, come on, let's get you back to your dorm. Here, have my jacket, it's cold."

Miranda slept for most of the weekend after that. The next Monday, when she had business, Miranda smiled at the girl next to her.

"Ready for work after a lonely weekend clubbing, are we?" She asked suddenly, feeling powerful that she had a hold over her partner's usual smug demeanour. The girl looked up, and smiled.

"Recovering from flashing your underwear to the public, are we?"

"Trying to use emotional blackmail to regain superiority over me, are we? I won." Miranda grinned. The girl smiled.

"I'm Stevie."

"Miranda."

"Oh I know you're Miranda. You were late last week, remember? And I've seen you fall over about twenty thousand times since then."

"You've been watching me?"

"No, just looking out. You know, in case you ever need a police witness." Miranda smiled, and pushed Stevie, who promptly fell off her chair. As she scrambled back up, laughing, the professor walked in. The two of them shut up quickly after that, but once the lesson was over, they burst out into fits of laughter, as they gave each other their dorm locations and phone numbers. The ice had been broken.

The rest of the day went rather uneventfully, although she could now claim to have survived university for a full week, including a weekend. Upon reaching her dorm that night, Miranda noticed a small, wrapped package sitting outside her door. She picked it up, and carried it inside.

"Whatever can this be?" she asked nobody in particular. "Only birthdays are for presents, and this isn't my birthday. At all. What is it?" It was a medium sized box, which felt rather solid, but quite light, also. It rattled barely audibly when shaken, but was loud when knocked upon. It was wrapped in brown paper with a red ribbon around it. Attached to the ribbon was a small brown label, which read 'Miranda' in a script which was a little scruffy, but not too scrawly. She shrugged, and slipped the paper off, then smiled. A note fell out into her lap: a piece of lined paper torn from a notebook, which read

'Miranda, hope your shoulder is alright. Thanks for brightening my evening last Friday, and sorry I couldn't thank you sooner. I had to wait until today to use the uni kitchens to 'practice an idea I had for my assessed practical'. I hope they're an acceptable gift to say thanks, and they're also an offering of my friendship, hence why my dorm number etc are on the back of this sheet. I get that you'll probably drop the whole food thing now you've realised it involves cooking (yes, I've heard your complaints in lessons), but I hope that we can still hang out sometime, as you provided me with a great time on Friday. I hope that these find you okay. Love, Gary x'

Miranda stared at the Tupperware box in her lap, and smiled brightly, as her heart skipped a beat. Inside were doughnuts. Handmade doughnuts. Doughnuts handmade by Gary. Gary had taken time to handmake her doughnuts. And they were delicious. Absolutely perfect in every way. She smiled, and vowed to visit his dorm sometime to offer her thanks. He was so intuitive. Miranda definitely was dropping the food classes, that much was certain. And probably the travel classes, too, no matter what Tilly said to her. That left English, circus performance and business. Miranda figured that she would work out which she would actually do her degree in at some point soon. In the meantime, however, she had Gary's delicious doughnuts to occupy her mind (which she internally giggled at, since it sounded like a euphemism). Miranda placed the box on her desk, and the note in her drawer with her underwear, so that she knew where to find it. For now she had two new friends. Stevie and Gary. And Gary had made her doughnuts. He was perfect.

Miranda smiled to herself as she drifted to sleep, feeling as if it had in fact been her birthday. Her first week at university had gone better than expected, she supposed, after a shaky start. And she would never forget any of it. Especially not her first love, doughnuts.

~Fin~

(a/n - okay, so that's that story done for now. Yea, it is procrastination. I am actually quite pleased at how it turned out. Especially as it is a birthday giftfic. Let me know if you like it, as I am now tempted to write some more Miranda fics. I always smile at the doughnuts scene, and then this headcanon just sort of materialised from nowhere. Right, bye guys, I should probably actually go and do something productive now. Please review, and favourite if you think it is worthy enough!)


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